An Asha'man is Raised
by Man Of Reason
Summary: A look into the future at what may be........
1. Chapter 1

A/N: it's so hard to write in the here and now, so I though well that's Jordan's playground why not play in one he said he never would, besides Jordan changes things all the time!

Disclaimer: I own nothing in Jordan's universe it all belongs to his head, such a shame when you think about it.

The wind blew across the road scattering leaves in its path. Although the day was warm, the wind held a chill that promised an early winter but he did not let a minor thing like the wind touch him, today of all days. His mind processed that the wind was cold, noted the fact, like noting that water was wet, but water being wet did not always affect you. His mind processed the fact and moved forward, ever forward, toward his destination. Every thing he had done over the last year, one year precisely to the very day, had been working towards this hour, arriving at his destination at this time, on this day and now that time was close, oh so very close.

The horse under him continued down the well traveled path, he had once named him but knowing the name of the animal wasn't important, the only thing that was important was reaching his destination, so the name had been forgotten, discarded from his thinking like the useless piece of information that it truly was. His thinking was only attuned to two things, how was he going to reach his destination on this day and how was he going to be able to survive to reach it? Everything else was useless, once it had seemed important but not now, now it was just a barrier stopping him from getting to where he was meant to be. To here he had to be, to where he had worked so long to be.

His body was now just muscle and bone; all unnecessary fat had wasted away long ago. Once it had been a tall, muscular body, surrounded by the effects of an easy life, where he could always eat if he was hungry, always eat even if he wasn't. Now it was all that was needed to get the job done, what was needed to keep moving closer, day by day closer.

Day and night he longed for one thing, one thing dominated his body and soul so much that he refused to think about it, refused to let his mind entertain, even for a second, that tantalizing thought that always seemed to surround his consciousness, for he knew that if he did he would eventually falter, and he had not sacrificed the last year to falter now. Not when he was so close. But he could always feel it there, shinning with the promise of joy, of living once more. He now knew that this was the test that this was the challenge, and he would die before he failed.

His surroundings were becoming more familiar with every passing mile. Bit by bit the path showed signs of more common use as the distance decreased. This was a little known of, little thought of path to his destination, a little bit longer but this was the path he had to enter from, the path he had been told to use. Abruptly he realized that there were only a few more miles to the Black Tower, just a few more.

Tension that he had not even noticed seemed to leak out of him, a weight seemed to lift of his shoulders and the numbing haze that had engulfed his mind seemed to lessen. He would arrive before time, he would be early. His mind drifted back to that day one year ago, the day he had been called out of training, the day he had been told of this test and had been so surprised, so naively overconfident. A spiteful grunt escaped his lips, oh how foolish he had been, how so very stupid, how so very ... young. Strange to think that he was only a year older.

He had heard from many that this was the test that would define who he would become, the accomplishment that the rest of his life would be built on, and nothing ever would seem harder. In the beginning he had thought they were wrong but now he knew better, for this test wasn't against any adversary but yourself, at once your greatest ally and your greatest enemy, this was the test in which one proved that they possessed the highest level of self control, highest levels of self discipline. This test defined your character, exposed your weaknesses brutally to yourself whilst you were in the most helpless state of mind and whilst those weaknesses threatened to destroy you, one had to overcome them in order to survive. Facing your weaknesses at the best of times is difficult, facing them at your worst is almost impossible.

He understood now, it was in knowing that you survived that strength was drawn. In knowing that you had overcome worse that your self belief was enhanced. In knowing that despite your weaknesses you had still survived that hope always lived on. Knowing that they could be overcome at anytime, knowing what your weaknesses are that you are able to improve yourself. In knowing that despite what you had already learnt there was much more to learn. In knowing that there is always an alternative that insight is born. This was the test to become Asha'man, not some useless exercise in the power but a grueling test of self discipline that threatened to destroy you.

His thoughts turned to that day one year ago, he remembered the excitement of the summons, for there was only one thing it could possibly mean. The summons to the Chamber of the Guardian had come at an unexpected time, a summons that could mean only one thing, that he would face the final test. Though the fact that he and many others had witnessed men returning from this test in his time at the Black Tower was commonplace, the details had always been withheld. Soldiers and dedicated were left to wonder why men that had seemed among the strongest of the students, the best that were not fully Asha'man, always returned precisely one year later or not at all. They often wondered why they returned haggard, as if from a year of torture, but now he knew. Oh how he knew. He recalled entering the great stone doors that lead into the Chamber, the first time he had been allowed inside the room, he had been struck by its brilliance.

The great domed stain glass ceiling, depicting the symbol of the Asha'man, the symbol of the Dragon, struck him with awe. The serpent seemed to withier across the glass ceiling, as if alive, but he knew that it was just an illusion, a trick of the eye. It was strange though how it seemed to be moving as if to attack a trespasser. He had had to assume the flame and the void then and there just to remain calm. He remembered finally tearing his eyes away from the long withheld sight and taking in the rest of the chamber. The entire structure seemed to be carved out of polished black and white marble, though the marble was predominantly white, massive veins of black marble streaked across the walls and support beams. It was at that time that everything else faded from view but one man, Logain, the M'Hael himself, stood on the raised platform at the far end of the room flanked on both sides by what must have been every Asha'man not on duties within the Tower grounds at the present time.

Logain stood looking at him in silence, watching as he approached, a grim expression on his face as was the custom but strangely something else seemed to be trying to creep in. In his hands he held the famous crystal sword, the sword given to him because of his post, Callandor, the Sa'angreal that had no buffer, a source of great power but if misused would turn deadly, much like the post of M'Hael, a constant reminder to whoever lead the Black Tower. Dressed in ceremonial black, with the sword and dragon attached to his chest, as were all the other man, Logain possessed a presence that seemed to radiate power, a stance that screamed of alertness. Finally as his long journey across the massive floor came to an end he stood before Logain, his neck at an uncomfortable angle to look the M'Hael in the eyes and as was the custom, he begun the ceremony. "Dedicated you have been summoned to face your final test to finish the training that we can give, your greatest challenge now lies before you, one unlike any you have faced before or will ever likely again. If you succeed you will be raised to the ranks of the Asha'man, you will become one of us. Do you wish to undertake this final test, which, as you have no doubt learnt in your time here, will take the next year of your life?" It was a question he had expected and one that they all knew how he was going to reply.

As he had been instructed in the short time between his summons and arriving at the great stone doors, this was the only time he would ever be asked this question, if answered yes the test would begin, if no, he would be sent from the Chamber, forever to remain a dedicated. A fate that he and every other student in the Tower had been striving to avoid for their entire time here, so far in the short life of the Black Tower, not once had anyone answer no. He replied as he was instructed to if he was going to choose this path. "I am ready M'Hael, I _will_ become an Asha'man." At his reply a small smile played across Logain's face, before vanishing almost instantly. It was customary to accept the challenge before you knew the conditions of the test, something which had imbedded fear into the hearts of most of the students. It was now he would learn his fate.

Almost instantly, the sword in the M'Hael's hands began to glow softly, he had been instructed that although the sword was not really required it was a custom to use it for this purpose. As the M'Hael began to weave threads of _Saidin_, he began to speak, "The final test is not a test of skill, it is not one of strength, but one of commitment," to his right a gateway began to open spiraling into existence as he had seen so many times, revealing rolling plains of snow, "As you may know you will spend one year exactly away from us, your task is simple arrive at the gates of the Black Tower one year from today, this gate leads to the same spot for all Asha'man so know that this task can be accomplished. To join our ranks you must succeed, only those that were at the last battle have been spared this task, for we already know of their commitment and determination." There was more he was sure of it, there was no way staying away for a year and then coming back could be the test. Logain continued, "You must come to us from the south, use the woods path as you near the Tower." Logain stopped and looked at him expectantly, this time a genuine smile was on his face.

Unsure of himself he started towards the gateway, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise further with every step he took until the inevitable happen and Logain's voice shattered the silence. "Oh and one more thing," slowly he turned back to face the M'Hael, not knowing what to expect, "this task is to be completed without a single use of _Saidin_," ever so slowly Logain placed a shield between him and the true source, tying it of as he begun to speak, "As you have no doubt witnessed that shield is weak, you will be able to break through it at anytime, but to complete this test you must return to us with that shield in place, still intact. You must resist the temptation of _Saidin_ for a year, for that is the real test, the temptation will be almost unbearable, but you must choose what is more important to you, _Saidin_, or the Asha'man." A year! Without _Saidin_! That was the price of becoming an Asha'man, almost literally the hardest test he could think of, again Logain's voice interrupted his thoughts. "You may proceed." Ever so slowly he turned and walked through the gateway.

Within days he found that he was in Seanchan, on the other side of the world! Now one year later that light forsaken shield was still in place, just the thought that he was mere minutes away from touching _Saidin_ again was nearly driving him insane, the closer he came the harder it was to resist. Ever so slowly his mount topped the rise and the gates of the Black Tower came into sight. Somewhere, he vaguely realized, he had spurred his mount to a gallop and he was charging towards the Tower at break neck speed, a thick haze had settled over his mind that would not dissipate. He would not fail now, of that he was sure.

Later he would remember almost nothing about that night, a common occurrence he was told, the bodies' lust for _Saidin_ seemed to override the mind in most cases, but he did remember a few things. He would remember walking into the Chamber of the Guardian a second time, but this time the stain glass seemed to be protecting him, not attacking. He would remember the sea of faces that had been waiting and hoping he would arrive, all happy, all dressed in black. He would remember the thrill of been told he had passed and that he could touch _Saidin_ again, he would remember the joy of it coursing along his bones, throughout his body seemingly bringing life where there had only been death for a year. How alive he felt at its touch.

But most importantly he would remember the ceremony and Logain Albar. The M'Hael leaning over and placing the dragon pin upon his breast, before proclaiming to the gathered assembly in his booming power enhanced voice, "An Asha'man is raised," to which there was a cry of joy, "whatever this man may become, whatever he may do, what titles he may accumulate over his lifetime there is one thing no one will ever be able to take away or change and that is the title I give him now, welcome to the Black Tower brother," and in a quieter voice he continued, he spoke as if he had been waiting for this for a long time, "welcome Asha'man Tam Trakand."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Once again Jordan owns everything, I bet he doesn't even use it properly.

A/N: Mira Hopesbane: Big thank you for reviewing, I'm glad you liked it and hope you like this one too.

Logain Ablar stood gazing out the window at the sprawling city below him, not for the first time marveling how the city had grown over the last twenty years. Once just a near forgotten legend, the city of Manetheren stood again at the foot of the Mountains of Mist.

Nestled against the flowing waters of the Manetherendrelle the city had sprung to life slowly, first it was just the tattered remains of the Black Tower struggling to find a place to settle after the Last Battle, a place out of the way where they could recover, a place that the world had forgotten. A few of the soldiers from the Two Rivers had suggested it, in the end it had turned out to be the perfect choice. How could they not name their city after the one that had once stood? It was soon decided they would stay.

After that others had slowly began to trickle in, soon that trickle had turned to a steady stream, then as the word spread that there was a safe haven in a world where chaos still seemed to reign, where the remaining Asha'man called their home, the steady flowing stream had turned to a flood. The word had spread of what the Asha'man had sacrificed during the last days of servitude to the Dragon, on the slopes of Shayol Ghul and the battles that had lead to it. The Asha'man had been at the hottest parts of the battle time and again, until the final charge through the lines of the Trollocs, to the very entrance of the pit of doom.

Shuddering Logain's mind retreated from those memories for they were dark indeed. Of close to two thousand men that had worn black, only three hundred survived to settle in Manetheren and of them only twenty had worn the dragon. '_The respect of the people had been won with blood and_', he thought grimly, '_the fact that none of them had gone mad, before or after the Last Battle, at least none that anyone knew of._' The Taint had taken some before it was removed, but only a few, thank the Light. He remembered the first time he had touched _saidin_ without the taint and the celebrations that had followed. They were still in debt for that day, though they would pay it soon. Life was given to those that would survive; they were in a great debt indeed.

After little more than twenty years things seemed to be falling into place, the time had come for the Asha'man to make their presence felt, and after all it would be irresponsible to have the power to make things better and to just sit idly at the foot of the mountains. Laughing ruefully Logain corrected himself, it would be irresponsible to have the power to put a check on the Aes Sedai, and not. After all, they finally had the numbers to rival theirs again. The final straw had been the return of Tam Trakand two days ago, though this day had been coming for a while. The boy was the perfect messenger in a way.

Logain grimaced, the boy and his mother were problems that needed to be solved, and soon. Many saw the fact that his mother chose to send her only son to Manetheren and the Black Tower instead of the White Tower with his sister as a positive sign, a point of view he did not agree share. The Queen knew that if they so chose they could declare the west of Andor theirs and she could do nothing about it. They could declare that they ruled the state of Manetheren, not just the city, which while technically still a part of Andor, no queens guard had ever set foot inside the walls. There was also the-none-too-small fact that the twins had been born with the spark, the boy would have channeled whether she sent him or not, eventually he would have ended up among the Asha'man, sending him as if by choice was nothing more then a sound political move. The question that remained though was one of loyalty.

Once Tam had entered the Black Tower relations with Caemlyn had been icy at best, and had grown into a premature frost when, over the last year, the Queen had demanded that her son attend various functions within the Andorian court, most notably the celebrations of his and his sisters birthday. When her demands had been met with silence and the boy missed the celebrations while his sister didn't, she had been furious, though she knew that nothing could be done. She also was aware that he knew who the boy's father was; something that she had kept secret for safety and various political reasons, though how was beyond him.

While he had seen little of his twin sister he had seen enough to know that she took after her mother, on the other hand one look at Tam was almost like looking at a ghost. Despite the boy been graced with the blond hair of his mother and been half a head shorter than his farther had been, the resemblance started with the blue, gray, eyes that shone with intelligence, seeming to know things about yourself even you didn't know and did not end there. It was in the shape of the mouth, the slant of the eyebrows, the planes and angels of his face, and now in the way he held himself, as he had held himself when he walked into the Chamber of the Guardian two days before, commanding, proud, yet defiant, almost challenging every step of the way. Many would say it was the attitude of a young man trying to find his place in the world, but Logain had seen one such man that acted much the same make the world bow. Tam had so much of his farther in him it was almost disturbing, add to that the fact that he was born of parents that both had the spark and his strength in the power was almost to be expected.

It was this young man that he had been waiting for while watching people go about their daily business in the city below, the plans had been made even before he returned to the Tower, it was past time to make the world take notice and now they had the opportunity to not only do so but to begin to pay back old debts. When he heard the knock at his door he was surprised at how calm he felt, fore he knew that this was the beginning and he didn't feel at all guilty about using Rand al'Thor's son as the catalyst. Quickly he seated himself behind his desk and gave an abrupt "Come".

The door swung open to reveal the newest raised Asha'man who quickly stepped into the room closing the door behind him. Without hesitation Tam clapped his fist to his heart and giving a slight bow stated in a clear voice, "M'Hael, you sent for me?"

Logain studied the man before him, for that is what he surely had become in the last year, he had lost all the excess weight that he had when he had come to Manetheren; he stood tall and lean, muscles defined even through his clothing, eyes that at the moment were grey stared at him in a questioning manner. He had to suppress the urge to grimace now that he saw him up close, perhaps there was a reason why the first prince of the sword had been overweight when he had come to the Tower. Perhaps the Queen understood what he now saw; maybe a beard was in order? "Yes, Asha'man Tam, I did indeed. As you have no doubt heard since your return that relations between the Black Tower and Andor over the last year have become ……. _strained_. This is an inconvenience for the Tower. As you know we cannot divulge information about the final test that you were undertaking, and when we could not answer your mothers questions about your whereabouts, among other things, our mutual tolerance of each other that had existed for the last twenty two years began to disintegrate," He paused for the moment to gauge the mans reaction, finding it one of concern he continued, "So, naturally, when an opportunity arose for one of the Asha'man to complete a small task in Caemlyn, I immediately thought of you." He finished with a small smile, knowing what was coming next.

To his credit Trakand managed to keep most of his surprise from showing on his face, "My lord, I would be honored, but what is there in Caemlyn that concerns the Asha'man?" Suddenly that concerned look that played across the young mans features took on a whole new meaning, so he did not like the idea of the Asha'man influencing Andor, did he? Quickly Logain schooled his features and continued.

"It's time to pay old debts my new brother, time to pay old debts and now that we are able, they will be paid in full." Pausing for a moment Logan reached out to the top of the table and picked up a parchment that had been in his possession for years, relishing the chance to finally be able to use it, "You are to take this with you this evening, to Caemlyn. Your mother is hosting a banquet to mark the anniversary of the last battle, I believe. Most of the nobles of Andor will be present as well as the Amyrlin herself," that infuriating women was always present at such functions, as if to make people remember that the Aes Sedai were there as well, "but most importantly the King and Queen of Malkier will be present. It is to the Queen that we owe our debt and it is to her that you will present that parchment." Logain could still remember that women clearly, although he hadn't seen her in over twenty years, it was hard to forgot the person who gave you life not once, but twice.

A startled look settled across the young mans features; it was painfully obvious that this was the last thing he had been expecting. Clearly confused he replied hesitantly, "Of course my Lord, but what debt could we possibly owe to the Northern Queen?"

As Logain told the story he had been longing to tell for over twenty years, he watched those blue grey eyes turn from a look of complete confusion, to surprise, to wonderment and then to one constant look of new found respect. It seems the young man had misjudged Nynaeve al'Meara, which he had to admit would be quiet easy to do. Though she had a temper that was frightening and could be somewhat irritating, her heart was never in the wrong place and she always did what she could to help, no matter the risk to herself. It seems Tam had just realized that there was another side to his mother's quick tempered friend, one he had most defiantly not been expecting.

After Tam had left with parchment in hand, Logain once again found himself studying the sprawling city below, which was now somewhat obscured by the setting sun, but his mind lay elsewhere. The Prince of Andor who was now an Asha'man. The question that tore at him so much now was how far could he trust him? If it came to a choice between the Black Tower and Andor which side would he be on? Troubling questions that he hoped would never need be answered, though he personally believed the boy would not betray the Tower, no man would complete the final test if they did not want to be part of it, he also believed he would not fight Andor, though in the future the very same problem may be with a different country entirely.

The main problem was that, he was Rand al'Thor's son; there was no way that he could have said no to training the boy even if he had wanted to. Tam would never be just a normal Asha'man and that was a legacy from his farther. Despite the close physical appearance to al'Thor it was with the power that he saw the most resemblance and the resemblance been that they were extraordinary. While his father was focused solely on the Last Battle, his control of _saidin_ focused on destruction to such an extent that all else was left by the wayside, it seems his son had a different philosophy and Logain was beginning to understand that talents with the power were not gifted by the Creator but rather a reflection of beliefs and personalities.

Tam was the most balanced Asha'man presently at the Black Tower. His ability to destroy was completely balanced by his ability to heal to the exclusion of basically everything else. The only such man they had and with his royal upbringing he had always seemed as if he was born to command, always in control of any situation and the dangerous thing was many of the soldiers and dedicated seemed to subconsciously respond to it.

He had heard Tam say once if you knew how to heal a man you most defiantly knew how to kill one and Tam now knew everything that Flinn could teach him, and perhaps more. A most extraordinary ideology indeed, though he strongly suspected it came from the boys upbringing, been around the rulers of a nation that was struggling to survive after the Last Battle, with the world in turmoil. Tam would have witnessed both the need to defend the people and also the anguish of not been able to save the people. Judging from his abilities, Tam saw them as basically the same thing, one lead to the other. He would have heard many accounts of villagers been slaughtered by the bandits that had plagued every nation for many years after the Last Battle, and Logain would have staked his life on the fact the a young Tam would have imagined killing the bandits, and healing the dieing villagers.

While many other students had experiences of seeing loved ones die violently and hence were more attuned to killing, others had watched loved ones die slowly, over time, whether of sickness or the plagues that had been rampant in many nations just over twenty two years ago now, they were the ones that Flinn had been able to teach his healing techniques to. It seems that Tam was balanced in his mind, not only seeing the need to heal and help people but the need for killing as well. All others could only respond to one side of the story.

As he watched the city below him, he could just make out Tam as he opened a gateway and, flanked by the three others that Logain had ordered accompany him, stepped through to Caemlyn. Taking a deep breath he turned away from the window as the gateway swirled shut, it had begun. At least very soon it would and very soon the world would know that the Asha'man were a loyal ally to have. It was time to inform the others.

* * *

Tam Trakand walked through the near empty halls of the Royal Palace feeling torn. For the first time in his life the Royal Palace of Andor didn't feel like home, in fact he felt like he was trespasser in the place he grew up. The lanterns that where placed periodically along the walls were lit giving a soft glow to the vast hallways as they walked towards the main ballroom. Apart from a few servants and patrolling guards they saw no one but it was the reactions of those that they did see that had disturbed him so much, they didn't recognize him. Perhaps they couldn't make out his features in the dimly lit halls or perhaps they couldn't see past the black uniforms that had the dragon on their chest, after all, these days it was a rare occurrence to see an Asha'man outside of Manetheren. They should still recognize the First Prince of the Sword in his own country though. 

As Tam and the three other Asha'man that the M'Hael had ordered accompany him came closer to their destination the sounds of the musicians filtered down the halls, growing louder with each step. He knew what he would find when he eventually entered that vast chamber that held this event every year, a scene that could have been from any other ball except for the fact that without fail his mother would be wearing white, the color of mourning and she would be in a foul mood, almost unapproachable though no one knew why. He would find the Amyrlin on her left and the Malkierian Queen on her right.

For the first time in his life he may have to directly defy his mother, something that eventually needed to be done but something he was not looking forward to. Walking down the halls he had made a decision that had been nagging at the back of his mind for a very long time, would he be the Andorian lord that was also an Asha'man or would he be the Asha'man that was also an Andorian lord? He had been here for less than an hour and he knew, Andor could easily survive without a First Prince of the Sword, besides they still had the old one. Although he loved his family he could not, no would not, stay and subject himself to his sisters rule for the rest of his life, would not be a subject to his sister merely because he was male, merely because of a tradition that his mother and sister didn't question in the slightest.

He didn't envy his sister her future power, but he would most certainty not subject himself to it. He had a life among the Asha'man now, one that would bring him far greater satisfaction than one spent in the Royal palace, after all he could still return when absolutely needed, and could still help the people of Andor as much, just in a different way. Though the fact was his mother would never see it the same way, the one thing she would see was that he was turning his back on her, his sister and Andor. He knew his mother expected him to receive his training and then return to Caemlyn, back to his old life, one that could never satisfy him now. One of pompous lords and ladies, one where he had next to no friends due to his station, one where his own mother would not tell him who his own father was and expect him to believe it was for the best.

As they approached the doors to the main ballroom Tam could see the eyes of the soldiers on guard widen in shock, though they were not staring directly at him but at all of them, the last thing they had been expecting at this ball were the Asha'man. Lord Tam Trakand went unnoticed in their midst, confirming his earlier thoughts. They were in shock but they didn't think to bar their way.

Tam stood before the doors nervously adjusting his coat and pins of the sword and dragon, his two most valued possessions. Tonight his mother would expect him to stay while the other three returned to the Black Tower. Tonight his mother would realize that he had chosen a life that she had not planned out for him, a life she did not control, a life of value compared to one of a tradition he didn't believe in. Tonight she would realize what he intended to do and she would be furious. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the doors open to reveal the dazzling colors of the Royal Ballroom; he took his first step towards his new life.

A/N: Okay so one review last time, which tells me one of two things, everyone hates it or is just too lazy to review, please give me something to work with here. I hate to beg but even negative feedback is somewhat appreciated, in time.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Yeah so I have never owned this…..

A/N: I know it has been a while for this one but writing is a hobby for me and I felt like writing this scene, if I tried doing anything else it would have felt like work and I would never have finished it. Anyway enjoy.(by the way i have been trying to upload this since firday afternoon, it is now midnight monday.)

Gregorin Panar den Lushenos had seen a lot in his life, membership of the council of Nine in Illian had seen to some of that. Rand al'Thor had seen to the rest. From the moment that young man walked into Illian and Gregorin presented him with the Crown of Swords, as it was now known, things had most certainly become interesting. '_In all honesty, much too interesting for my liking_,' he thought regretfully. Yet still the experiences of those years had given him perspective, so much so that he could now enjoy the quieter days in the twilight of his life and enjoy even more the days such as this one. Oh how he loved banquets. And he loved those that he attended in other countries so much more; the wine was that much sweeter when you didn't purchase it yourself.

The queen had outdone herself, outdone even her own lofty reputation and it was only after he arrived and had already seen the splendor had he learnt why. Today was a duel celebration, commemorating the Lights victory in the Last Battle and the Lady Tigraine's, the Daughter-Heir, return to Andor after completing her training at the White Tower. Like her mother the young woman now held the title of Aes Sedai, though why they chose now to celebrate instead of the reported six months ago that she had reached the shawl was beyond him. Yet who could know the ways of the Aes Sedai?

As for the banquet itself being an annual event didn't subtract from the grandeur, if anything it seemed to add to it. As a guest he had only been able to attend a few of these celebrations over the last twenty odd years and despite the length of time from the Last Battle continuously increasing, the amount of money spent on the night was not lessening. If anything each time he was present they seemed to be getting more lavish, more extravagant, as if the queen was trying to hold onto something.

The aptly named Grand Hall in the palace was just that this night, grand. The light pink rose-colored floors were polished until they shone. Large iron wrought candle holders were placed throughout the room at even intervals in the spaces between tables, there light casting a soft glow that added to the strong light of the chandeliers overhead. Hanging from the ceiling above and draped over every table, the colour white was the most prominent in the room. Which was to be expected given this a day of remembrance of the dead, a day of mourning.

A rich red carpet ran down the middle of the room between beautifully carved columns, straight to the dais and the royal table where the queen, her family and closets friends sat, presiding over the proceedings. Behind them the musicians sat, instruments in hand, there soft, mournful music, filling the air and adding to the already splendid atmosphere. Servants in the red and white of Andor lined the walls, waiting to be called at a moments notice.

Gregorin brought his finely worked silver mug to his lips once more, enjoying the sweet nectar of the Andorian wine while he leaned back in his chair, content at the end of a fine meal. As was due his station as one of the nine rulers of Illian he was seated at a table close to the royals, a position of honor. Given that he was the only member of the Council of Nine that was attending this year, the others unable or unwilling to make the journey; it was his right as the only representative of the ruling body of Illian.

One hand resting on his belly through his silk shirt, the other holding his glass to be refilled by a passing servant a snippet of the conversation at his table reached his ears and he felt the need to cut in roughly, "Aye Tairen, it do be true that without your grain we would starve," he said, glaring at the offending High Lord, "but it also be true that without our iron you would not be able to outfit your army. Never let it be said that Illian doesn't hold to her side of the bargain, never let it be said that Illian is extorting Tear." He stopped and stared at the pompous, open mouthed Simaan, his sharp nose in complete contrast with his oiled beard. Sure that the other man got the message he smiled softly to cut the tension, after all this wasn't the time or place for arguments, "However much we might like to."

That brought a chuckle from everyone at the table except Simaan, who seemed perfectly happy starting a heated debate when they were guests in another country, in a palace no less. Simaan puffed himself up, his checks billowing, his mustache flicking about angrily as he spat, "Illianer, I'll have you know that you are getting by far the best of this deal. Tear can buy its iron anywhere. If only King Darlin would open his eyes and see that Tear could sell its grain for so much more elsewhere instead of to Illian this mess would not exist." In the distance the sound of a door opening and closing could be vaguely heard over his voice.

The 'mess' that he was referring to was the two nations, sworn enemies until al'Thor had almost forged them together, were now codependent, each needed the other. Being in the position he was in, Gregorin was positive that both countries were benefiting from the treaty. "And Illian can sell its iron elsewhere and at better prices," he began in a smooth voice, before aiming almost blindly, "Tell me Simaan, what proportion of your estates do be farms?"

The pole axed expression on the other man's face told him that he had hit squarely, not bad for some dusty old memories. It was Simaans personal wealth that was the issue here then, not the trade agreement. Trying to hide the smile that bloomed on his face he brought his glass to his lips again as Simaan's eyes flashed dangerously, "That is none of your business and hardly the issue. Tear's farmers aren't getting there due-" he cut himself off mid-sentence as gasps rolled through Grand Hall, seemingly starting near the doors and jumping from table to table towards the dais at an increasing pace. Following Simaans lead, he turned in his chair to see what all the fuss was about and, as his eyes fell on the four men walking down the centre of the room, proceeded to choke on his wine.

Dressed in all black the men seemed to radiate danger with every stride, with every movement, as if any moment they were about to destroy everything that their eyes rested on. Whether it was due to his own memories of the Asha'man, or the fact that they somehow managed to look that dangerous, he was not sure. But what he was sure of though was that it was not the presence of the mere Asha'man striding unexpectedly down the centre of the Grand Hall that had caused him to choke. Oh no, not just that, he had seen much in his life and it took more than that to startle him.

It was the man in the centre, at the forefront of the others with the parchment in his hand, that had was causing his hands to tremble, causing him to be gasping heavily as he tried to draw breath into his starving lungs. Apart from the blonde hair and a little bit of height, it was like looking at a ghost, a ghost that could only be from a nightmare. Dressed all in black with the sword and dragon at his collar, like the others, he strode down the carpet with an all too familiar commanding aura, though he didn't seem to be aware of it. Blue grey eyes reflecting the light from the candles, jaw tightened in determination, sandy blonde hair just reaching his neck. Gregorin half expected him to address him as he walked past, half expected him to question how goes Illian. His only reassurance was that he was far too young. '_By the Light, that boys Rand al'Thor's son or I'll eat my boots_,' he thought incredulously as he regained his breath, his eyes glued on the back of the young man as he approached the royal table. All conversation, everything, even the musicians, had stopped; everyone determined to hear what passed between the rarely seen Asha'man and the queen of Andor.

In the back of Gregorins mind a picture of the Vacant Crown sitting on an empty throne in Illian worked its way into fruition before he forced it anyway, hard. It was a problem that would have to be solved later, for now he had to pay attention. As the other three Asha'man stopped and the boy made his way forward, those at the royal table finally seemed to notice that something was amiss. Their expressions as their eyes fell on the young man were most unexpected. The King and Queen of Malkier shared a knowing glace. The Amyrlin sat stoically, the expression on her face, one of distaste, told him she was most unhappy at seeing the Asha'man. Her husband on the other hand was clearly shocked, as were the Daughter Heir and the Queen, who, after seeing the young man, had half risen in her chair, a smile beginning to work its way onto her features.

The young Asha'man stopped and uttered one single word as he offered a small bow, his voice carrying throughout the room, "Mother."

Gregorin nearly fell out of his chair and the sharp hiss of indrawn breath that sounded around the room told him he wasn't the only one that was shocked. His mind was having difficulty processing what he had just heard. '_The boy that looked so much like al'Thor…was the queen's son? He… he… he was Tam Trakand; the overweight little lordling that he had not seen in years was this man_? _This was the Daughter Heirs twin brother?_ How many of the other Lords and Ladies in the room were seeing the same thing he was, how many had seen the unforgettable face of al'Thor?

The queen's smile had died the moment that single word got such a reaction from those gathered in the Grand Hall. She sat back down, cool and composed once more, yet Gregorin could see her gripping the tablecloth tightly in one hand. When she spoke her voice held an edge that spoke of vast undercurrents, "So, you have finally returned," she paused as he noticeably tensed; something flickered across his face but was gone before he could tell what it was, "where have you been for the last year?"

It was hardly a question, more of a demand, more of a command and from the look on Tam's face, one he had hoped he wasn't going to be asked. When he did answer it was hardly the response the queen would have been looking for. "Doing what I had to do, Mother."

The queen raised her eyebrows at his tone and distaste echoed around the room as she responded, "What you had to do, as if that was your duty. Your duty is here, Tam, in Andor with your sister" She eyed his collar before continuing, "You'll not tell me where you were?"

"Would you discuss White Tower business with me?" he challenged angrily. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes never leaving his mothers face. '_Is it my imagination or is the boy erecting a wall around himself, a wall he doesn't want his family to cross?_' Taking her silence as an answer he spoke condescendingly, seemingly unaffected by the glare his mother was giving him. "I thought as much. As for my duty, that is why I am here." He turned and walked towards the Northern Queen, handing her the parchment in his hand. "Queen Nynaeve Mandragoran the Black Tower, with your consent, hereby enters into a one-sided defensive pact with Malkier as payment for services rendered. By the Light of our salvation and rebirth everyman that wears black dies before Malkier falls again, this the M'Hael has sworn to me personally."

Mandragoran appeared shocked to have even been looked at, let alone addressed so formally. She sat there, parchment held still in her hands, eyes darting between Tam and his mother. Hesitantly she asked, "One-sided defensive pact? What ….What services rendered?"

Tam smiled and for the first time he seemed to be letting his genuine feelings show. "One-sided defensive pact, it means that if Malkier is attacked we will come and defend your nation but we do not expect Malkier to come to our aid if the Black Tower is attacked. We will not, however, assist you if Malkier goes on the offensive." Gregorin could hardly believe his ears, a pact with the Asha'man….. In the space of two minutes Malkier had become virtually untouchable. "As for services rendered, I believe that it occurred on a hill outside Shadar Logoth with Rand al'Thor, some twenty two odd years ago now."

Whatever he was referring to Gregorin had no idea but everyone else at the table seemed to. Elayne had flinched at the mention of Rand al'Thor's name, casting a quick glance his way confirming the dark suspicions in his mind. '_She knew but far worse if she knew, Logain Ablar had to know_.' It was a particularly disturbing thought. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat he watched as Mandragoran answered softly, "I can't consent straight away; I need to consult the other Lords and Ladies in Malkier as well as my husband, at length."

Asha'man Tam Trakand smiled softly as he responded, "Of course, it affects your whole nation, not just you. That's understandable, just let us know what you decide. But know this, for as long as you are Queen this offer stands, no matter what decide over the next few days." With that he turned and gave a small bow to the queen of Andor. "Mother, sister…_Amyrlin_." He said, turned and started walking towards the doors.

Upon seeing him leaving his mother shot to her feet a cold, commanding voice filling the room, "Where do you think you are going, Tam Trakand, I saw the Dragon on your collar. You have completed your training at the Black Tower and it is now time for you to return to Caemlyn. You must begin your studies so you can be anointed First Prince of the Sword when your sister takes the throne." For some reason Tigraine was desperately trying to get her mothers attention but the Queen had eyes only for her son.

The man in question stopped almost in mid stride, before slowly turning to face his mother once more, "Begin my studies so I can be First Prince of the Sword?" he questioned with disdain.

"It is tradition, it is your duty and you know this as well as I. If you will not consent to training among the Gaidin at the White Tower due to your …_new title_, something will be arranged here. You must begin your training so you can be a competent general of Andor's armies when your sister reigns." The woman was ice personified, something he had heard of but never seen in person. Tigraine was slumped in her chair, defeated, whilst helplessly staring at her brother as if pleading with him not to do what she thought he would.

"As much as you don't like the idea Mother, I am an Asha'man and will be for the rest of my life." He paused and waited until his mother nearly started speaking again before continuing, "I have just completed my training and won't be doing any more any time soon. As for tradition… it's time for a change."

He had barely turned halfway around again before the queen's voice cut through the air. "It is your duty Tam, your place as my son demands it, your titles demand it. You don't belong in Manetheren, Tam, you belong in Caemlyn. You are bound by your station to stay and do what is required of you, bound by Andorian law."

"Bound by my station?" The boy said softly, whilst staring at the floor. He seemed to be arguing with himself but determination was slowly creeping over his features, his resolve seemed to be winning a silent battle.

Seeing this Tigraine shot to her feet and while pointedly ignoring the angry glance from her mother, pleaded with her brother, "Please Tam, don't-"

He raised a hand to silence her before he quietly said, "You of all people understand why I must, Tigraine." He sent an angry glare back at his mother and matched her icy tone with one of his own, "If it is my station that binds me then it is my station that I must leave behind." The queens eyes widened in shock as comprehension dawned but it was too late to stop him. He turned and addressed the gathered masses, "I, Tam Trakand, hereby abdicate all titles and lands due to me of my …_station_. My lands and estates go back to the crown, my titles pass on to another; I am Lord Tam Trakand of Andor no more, as of this moment he ceases to exist. I am simply Tam Trakand." He smirked and turned back to his outraged mother, "_Asha'man_ Tam Trakand."

Disbelieving silence filled the Grand Hall. His stunned thoughts raced through his mind '_Light abdication? To renounce royalty itself, renounce Lordship and give up ones birth right? To have all lands and estates suddenly gone? It was almost unheard of, especially for one with so high a rank._' The queen's angry voice suddenly filled the silence, "You would turn your back on Andor, on your family?"

"My family turned its back on me when I left for Manetheren, perhaps even before," he sneered, "and I'm sure Andor will be just fine without me, it has barely noticed my absence for the last five years." With that he turned, and flanked by the other three Asha'man who had been standing by silently this whole time, stormed out of the Great Hall, leaving a stunned crowd in his wake. A few seconds later Tigraine rounded the table she had been sitting at with her family and quickly hurried after her brother. For his part Gregorin stared down at the empty cup in his hand, quickly deciding that he needed more wine, much more wine. There was oh so much to think on, so much that he really didn't want to think about. It seems al'Thor was going to comeback and haunt him after all.

* * *

The door slammed shut behind him and the blissfully cool night air washed over his face as he staggered down the almost empty corridor. The only sound that could be heard was there own heavy footsteps echoing out into the night. Before he got even halfway down the corridor he had to stop and place his hands on the wall to support his weight as the scene replayed itself constantly in his mind. '_Why did she have to push me so? Why could she not have just let me deliver the message and leave?_' He turned and pressed his back against the wall, feeling the coldness seep through his cloths to his spine. For some reason his breathing was heavy, his heart was racing and the night seemed so very hot. He rested his head against the wall and fought the urge to slide down to the floor as realization sunk in, '_Blood and bloody ashes, that was not what I had intended to do when I walked into that room. Show defiance, yes, insolence, no._'

"You ok lad," the voice of the Taraboner, Andric, reached his ears, "that was quiet a show you put on in there." He stood there deeply concerned, his immaculately kept full beard glistening in the lamp light.

He managed a smile somehow, "I'll be fine, I just need a minute." He gestured vaguely to the Grand Hall, "It just got away from me that's all, it's just all catching up to me." Deep breaths were feeling good for some reason, filling his lungs as if he had been starved of air.

Andric let out a bark of a laugh, "Now there's an understatement if I ever heard one. Still it looked like it had to be done."

"What had to be done? Abdicating?" he questioned in confusion, bringing his eyes up to meet the other mans.

He shook his head softly as he replied, "Cutting the cord lad, they never like it when you do, but it looked like you needed to do it. Although you added your own special kick in the pants that I'm sure your mother won't forget in a hurry."

Despite himself he found he was laughing, "You're right it needed to be done and I'm also sure she will never forget." At Andrics nod he looked over to where the other Asha'man were waiting and, feeling much better, straightened. He was just about to start of again when the doors to the Grand hall opened, the excited buzz of hundreds of voices could be heard once more along with some halfhearted sounding music, as if the musicians were trying to determine if they should be playing or not.

Both he and Andric turned to see who had come. When their eyes feel on the petite, pale haired, blue eyed women who wore the great serpent ring, Andric clapped him on the shoulder and softly said, "Take your time lad, we'll move off a ways."

Tigraine walked towards him swiftly as Andric and the others retreated. He hid a wince, facing his twin after what he had just done was something he had hoped to avoid, no matter how much he had wished to speak to her when he entered the Great Hall and saw her there with mother. She came to a stop before him, blatantly studying him so he did some of his own.

She was older, but that was to be expected given that he had hardly seen her in five years. What he noticed most though were the little changes. They way she held herself, a new hair style, a little taller, a little more feminine. It all amounted to a young woman standing before him instead of the girl he had left behind. When he could take it no longer he broke the silence, "So, I see you made Aes Sedai, and six months ago from what I hear. I don't suppose you chose Red?"

She only managed a faltering smile in return, her eyes glistening, "Yes it seems I beat you by six months." He kept his mouth shut as she look down, how could he tell her that the test for Asha'man took a year, instead of an afternoon? That he had actually beat _her_ by six months? Still it was only a childish bet that they had made years ago, nothing that mattered now. "As for my Ajah, I chose blue. Not all of us can show their independence from mother in such a public arena."

"I never intended to do that," he said sadly, "all I wanted was to present the treaty and go back to Manetheren. I enjoy my life there Tigraine, I have a place, a purpose. One I chose for myself"

She shook her head, curly hair swaying to either side as she did so. "I am not as naïve as you seem to think I am Tam. I'm your sister, I knew, I always knew that if you found any happiness you would probably never return, the day you left was one of the saddest of my life." She brought a hand up to wipe some tears out of her eyes. "I saw your face every time I, or someone else mentioned your future as the First Prince of the Sword, I knew what it meant. But thinking something will happen and actually have it happen before your very eyes are two completely different things."

"I'm still sorry," he wanted to hug her but something held him back, "the palace no longer feels like home, Tigraine, the only thing that made what I just did hard was the thought of what I was doing to you."

"I don't care about my First prince," she declared, suddenly angry, "I care about my brother and the thought that I will hardly ever see him again." She calmed herself before continuing, "When I am queen you have but just to ask and I'll restore your titles and estates. But please come and visit me on more than our birthday. I missed you terribly while I was at the Tower, at least when mother was there she had Uncle Gawyn and Galad with her, I had on one."

"I'll try, I can't promise anything but I'll try." He paused as she nodded her understanding. He glanced over his shoulder at the waiting trio, "It's getting late Tigraine I have to get going."

He watched as she looked at her shoes once more, obviously not liking what he said. She began moving towards him a few times, as if to embrace him, before giving up and gesturing between them with a hand, "Why is this awkward?"

He gave her a sad smile as he answered in a quiet voice, "Five years is a long time, even for twins." He reached out and took her hand, rotating her great serpent ring on her finger, "it became awkward when you earnt this, and I the dragon."

"It should not be so." She whispered.

"Perhaps one day it won't be." He bent down and placed a light kiss on her check, "just so you know I wasn't talking about you when I said my family had turned there back on me." He saw her nod as he stepped away, "Hopefully I'll see you soon, until then don't let the Aes Sedai involve you in too many of there schemes and stay out of trouble," with a small chuckle he added, "But I hardly needed to repeat myself. Goodbye Tigraine."

"Farewell Tam," she said to his retreating back, "don't do anything too foolish." He didn't need to look behind him to see the Daughter Heir of Andor sadly watching him as he left.

A/N: I hoped you liked it. Anyway I don't know when I'll be able to update anything, Uni gets pretty crazy over the next six weeks, so hopefully soon but I'm not making any promises.


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